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ms0milk · 7 months

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𝟏𝟐 | 𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥 𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"You will spend summers in rainstorms and autumns in his orchards because you are Alderan and he will kill Takoban gods to get you there."

cw brief description of drowning and a claustrophobic struggle with the ocean. suggestions of suicidal intention and self harm. reader tries to fight the sea and your prince has horrible misunderstandings about it. bkg 🫱🏽‍🫲🏼 unethical rescue tactics pt 2, borrowed clothes, a fevered fireside confession in the bedroom you’ve been searching for 6.4k

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If Takoba is the edge of the world, Aldera is the center. You so starved for comfort, stand with your feet at the tip of the surf and tie your braids together.

You watch the sea at midnight and the winds coming off the water bite your scars before they chill your bones. Autumn at the edge of the world is miserable. Lakes freeze but the ocean is colder, and full of tides , like Todoroki said, which you’ve spent the day reading about. Unlike lakes and winter ice skating, the ocean has a taste. Salt and decay. It tastes unfathomably ancient. You watch its many maws foaming under the moonlight and seashells burn in frigid water when you step onto them.

In the view from Bakugou’s bedroom, you’ve lined your boots up neatly in the sand and stand watch beside them for a moment. You’re dressed to stop a midnight siege, in your white nightgown and padded habergeon, staring so small and far away from the warmth of his fireplace. You in a dark blue world, framed by his open window. Bakugou would have sipped his tea and rolled his eyes at his newly fucked up sleep schedule and how ridiculous you insist on looking in public if his cup wasn’t spilt on the rugs where he dropped it. If he hadn’t already ripped his door off its hinges in his sprint out of the castle.

You couldn’t sleep. You have no appetite and no mobility yet for sparring. Just books. Just Uraraka answering your questions about the sea while watching her men train. The ride with Todoroki yesterday was nice but it left your throat stiff and you are still in your kingdom’s service. Today in Takoba, tomorrow and forever behind your prince. Long before the blue gardens and scars, before the kitchen, before sticky crowds and white horses and cold hallways, something somewhere started to die.

You take another step into the swollen water, it rises with the moon, to confirm your suspicions and grimace when a crab scuttles over your foot. Another step and you’re up to your hem. It would all be easier if your heart was still a forest fire. When did that stop? When did the rain come? Up to your knees now. Seawater climbs your nightgown.

As it stands you’re no longer a dragon, just damp tinder. The black sea sways you side to side at the hips now so gently– keep walking, don’t look back. You will free yourself from doubt and you will fight a god to do it.

“Moon makes tides,” Uraraka yawned and slouched and stretched as you sat on your knees beside her in the pit.

“Can you swim in it?”

“In the ocean?” she squinted, “Yeah of course. But don’t tell me you want to swim in this weather?”

“I won’t.”

Shinsou could only pretend not to hear for so long from his spot beside you both this afternoon, “The moon makes tides, and tides make storms.”

Good. Up to your ribs now. Wear the rock there like an anchor.

In the cold water your body heat becomes that much more apparent and it’s lovely like home. Genuinely hot for a second. Your nightgown floats up around you and you sink quickly from chest to nose when the sand under your feet drops to freezing nothing. The sudden dip sends icy pain behind both eyes and the sensation of failing steeles every joint sickly sore. Walking through the ocean is like a fight, like driving a sword through someone solid, like braving a thunderstorm, but sinking into it is easier than sleeping.

You gasp and spit out the aftermath of losing your footing but you also fight too hard in anticipation of sinking and you’re suddenly in the open air up to your waist like a salmon leaping upstream. The weight of the nightgown settles you back down to your shoulders and it’s silent except for the sound of waves kissing the beach and one another. Whistling wind. You bob only some ten meters out from shore, just short of where Todoroki held you back for fear of drowning and something wild like greed blinks open a sleepy brown eye.

You hardly have to move a limb to keep your head above water; the sea is free and gentle. You float easily here, where a lake wants to watch you fight. It’s part of the fun at home and in exchange you are safe in freshwater. Salt stings– saliva pools under your tongue to keep it from getting inside– but it also holds you up in the foam like two hands under the hip.

Is this what you were so afraid of? This is the god you planned on killing tonight?

Every day in this miserable place you have been beaten. You have fallen apart in some way, your hair is too messy, your new clothes don’t fit right. You lose Aldera with every step, heel toe– earrings that are no longer yours, heel toe– a weapon you can't return, heel toe and stand at attention– a brooch you’re too afraid to wear, to lose too, so you keep it under your pillow and wear silver seashells instead. Blue fire took the first victory in the forest and you salvaged your prince with your life thin in your teeth. Takoba took the second victory and strung you out in your nightgown for nobles to pick at like crows. A driftwood table took the third and Bakugou stole the fourth. The only time you have ever won here is when you decided to die. When you churn the water with your arms a pain echoes across your back not quite inside your scars.

Kirishima on the verge of tears, Shinsou above your operating table, Uraraka at your side, Todoroki holding you back from the edge of the world– your prince, wet to his knees– you have never, not once in your life have you ever failed. Their gazes make your throat hurt and you spit again into a tiny rolling wave that lifts itself over your chin and into your ears.

The goddess of the sea does not pity you.

She pulls you into her arms and laughs when you rub your freshwater eyes. She tossels your hair with silent waves you could never have seen coming. She reminds you of her strength. And Todoroki told you that you couldn’t possibly challenge her– eat your words sealace prince. Even just this once, witness me. You are a gem in the crown of Aldera, the left hand of the golden family. Takoba is no setback the sea is not your master, you are a chosen servant, not a mistake. It is so wonderful to be in the presence of a queen again and at night her water is soft and black.

The shore is farther than you remember when you finally glance back at the world. You bob like a peach, a frozen peach, and realize you can’t feel the cold anymore. Time to head back. Today was just a test anyway, to make sure you could put up your fight. Maybe sleep will come now that you’re starting to breathe heavy and now that your muscles ache again after days without real training. Ice creeps up the back of your neck from wet hair.

The goddess of the sea plays with you for a few more seconds and you can’t wait to come back in the warmth of the sun to lay on your back with her to whom you no longer need to prove yourself. The ocean pulls in its depths just as much as it pushes at the shore so you brace your eyes for discomfort and duck under the surface to kick a good length forward. It would have worked in a lake, at the center of the world.

When you resurface you are somehow farther than before and considerably shorter of breath. The cold starts to press on your lungs now that you’re truly using them. It’s okay, one more time. You kick once to let the goddess lift you up with her salt and breathe in the free air before diving under again but all you actually do is stir bubbles around you exactly where you started. If anything even farther. Your boots are too small to see now.

There are no storms, no raging waves, no rain, no thunder, hardly wind, what is putting up the fight? Whatever. You paddle above water, thankful for light clothes, and weary of the growing ache under your jaw– the start of a pulsing headache. More than anything you are finally excited for bed, but no matter how hard you push there seems to be a growing distance between you and safety.

Dread drops in your peachpit stomach and you start to feel long pretty fingers tickle your heels in black water. The ghost of the flame mage happy to drag you with him to the bottom of the sea. Irrational like a fear of the dark, but still there’s no more time for testing pride, you have to get back to shore. The little girl inside of you cowers when you take one more heavy breath and then release it to sink yourself as deep as the salt will let you. You can see the breaking point, all you need is to reach the seafloor and kick yourself to it.

As you drift down into the pitch black something so much better than sand or ghosts meets your feet. You connect with rock as your lungs begin to ache for air and kick with every well trained muscle your legs have, forward towards the shore. Faster than freshwater, you rocket to the surface and gasp excitedly, blink rapidly, and infinitely closer to white sand, and then immediately the goddess pulls you under again.

Sure you found the breaking point, sure your toes tease the start of the shore you want to reach so badly, but that’s what waves do here. Break.

Something so silent couldn’t possibly be this powerful, but your head is forced back under as your hips are pulled back out and you tumble head over knees, mouth filled suddenly with salt and sand in the darkness. Resurfacing is no fun task, choking. You’re thankful it’s easy to float in the ocean but saltwater dries out your mouth as you retch it back out from your throat into the foam and then there’s another break over your head to remind you that humans should stay far away from god.

You’ll die just thirty meters from the shore. Salt blinds you. Water deep in one ear keeps you just dizzy enough to let this sea carry you out once again, and shouting isn’t an option. Shouting or gasping, you have to pick one. Ache has turned to paralysis; muscles so beaten and a heart beating so fast you’re already at the last limit reached by your master, training to failure. Striking and swinging until you can no longer hold your weapon. Hours of training reduced to fifteen minutes at sea.

The bruises of your shoulder protest every paddle you force out of them and go much stiffer much faster than the rest of you. In a way, the mage is drowning you. In every way the sea is much more claustrophobic than a war room.

The moon watches you heaving for air stuck between beating waves and being swept back out to sea. She doesn’t do anything. You are pulled under again. The rocks beneath you scratch your soft skin this time and your instinct is to flinch which fills your nose with water and drowning is certainly not as peaceful as poetry makes it out to be.

Of course it ends like this. A soggy creature fighting gods alone.

Of course he’s watching you, his Captain, being stolen by the sea.

You surface forcefully with a grip on your scruff and while your body remembers how to breathe, magic every furious color of the rainbow arcs above your head. The water recoils for a moment around you in the force of his impact. Bakugou erupts from the sky as he always does into the tragedy of your life in Takoba and you have no control over your searing gaze when it turns to him above you, framed by sparks and stars. Halo from the moon.

You both fall back into the water but not so helplessly as a moment ago. Your prince hooks and arm across your chest, pressing your back to his front and with so much more strength than you could ever muster, rips his way through the water in half of a backstroke. Half of him focused on keeping you afloat and only half of him conquering the sea. His legs create their own current. He holds you and you’re sure you’re breathing loudly enough into his collar to hurt his ears.

You are an excellent swimmer. Weak children, drunk diplomats, tests from your master; you have dragged your fair share of victims out of rivers and as the victim yourself you know better than to struggle or panic in your prince’s grip as he drags you from the goddess, but you can’t help how your fingers scratch at his translucent tunic. Cling to the warmth of his bicep.

In twenty seconds he has reached the break. Strength like a war criminal, like a godslayer. He turns in the water, times it to match the swell of a wave for height, and pulls you chest to chest with a guiding hand on the side of your head to fold you into him. The sea drops you and you know what comes next. Bakugou anticipates your struggle, or a drowned man’s panic, any logical thing and wraps another arm around you tight as he pulls you both under, but you don’t fight a single second and neither do you breathe.

He knows the sea so much better. If you weren’t unraveling like a common soldier you would have realized too, just how much calmer the water is underneath its surface. Even with ears full of sand you can hear the wave crash above you but there is no pull underwater. The roll of the goddess back out to sea twirls through your hair but nothing else. She lets your prince push up to the surface and doesn’t stop you from catching your breath inside the crook of his neck. Eleven seconds to beat the break. What does he even need a captain for?

This time when the tide drops, you don’t quite drop with it. Knees in the sand. Back on solid ground you realize how hard a body can shake and then water is beating you down again from behind, and a warm hand has you by the back of the haubergeon to keep you from slipping out to sea or laying flat down to sleep in the surf.

Both hardly walking, and you more-than-half carried, you and your prince stagger over seashells like glass back to the spot where your boots rest like nothing bad has ever happened at all, chased the whole time by a disappointed tide. You collapse the second he lets you. You, useless with cold and vomiting seafoam.

“Why?!” Your prince chokes, similarly out of breath beside you, hunched over his knees from the effort of winning your war. You can feel the glare. You are warmed by it and then entirely numb again, in a terrible turn of events, to even his attention. The very last ember dies without smoke.

Bakugou, even in a temper tantrum, has never looked quite so disheveled. He’s been wet before, and pushed his hair back with big hands and caught his breath through his teeth just like this, but he’s never looked at you with such confusion. His eyebrows don’t sit right. Without a scowl his whole thing really falls apart, huh?

“Answer me, Eyes!”

You wheeze instead of speaking when you try to use your voice for the first time and spit out the last of the salt that comes up with it. He doesn’t move, catching his breath across the sand at midnight. Your prince really is so pretty and something inside is eating you alive to the beat of the wash of waves. He is a star and you are the bloody little creature beneath him always, not chosen at all.

You sit yourself up. Bakugou is beautiful. Broad chest and shoulders trained for his magic and a wet tunic that clings to every lovely shape, just a few feet too far away to touch. Unmarred face and shaggy hair. His eyes. His jaw slopes sharp, sharper still in the moonlight and dripping with water, up towards his hungry red eyes that eat everything they’ve e–

“Wake up!” He barks.

He’s not eating you. He brings back your focus and when you hold his stare this time it’s so obvious he’s not confused, or angry, not exhausted or embarrassed or exasperated. He’s six and he’s holding your hands in a velvet carriage, terrified.

Oh boy. You guess self-control died with your heart, because your shoulders start to shake in a chuckle. Bakugou stares. Any fold of his brows melts immediately at the sound of your soft laughter but he hardens again when he speaks.

“What about this is funny?!” and pulls himself up to his knees as you lower yourself to clamshells, not-quite-laughing but not fighting the smile either. This is exhausting. “You just tried to kill yourself!”

This makes you snort, which is ugly, and shuts your prince up entirely. One laugh like a lie and then another and you curl in on yourself, shivering arms folded above your head and forehead pressed flat to the sand. Something like an apology. You are redundant, not suicidal.

If it were a real apology you would wait until he spoke again to raise your head like Todoroki in the stables, but that’s not what you’re doing at all. You ache from the inside. Burn in fact. You chuckle again and spit salt one last time when you sit up, then grab for your shoes with muscle memory instead of feeling since the cold has stolen that from you too. Bakugou is staring again– it is irritating, you should do it less.

The ocean makes a lovely noise when you are not drowning in it. It’s much quieter and sounds a bit like laundry sliding over itself. Or apples tumbling into a basket. You are the first to your feet, clumsily, and you are not so delirious that you forget you need proximity to a fire. Anyone else might not be able to stand through this adrenaline trembling but how many apprentices have come so close to death so many times as you?

“Oi,” Bakugou growls, confused again by the wrong emotion for just long enough to let you escape.

The hill between the castle and the sea is overgrown with dune grasses tall enough to tickle your hips and that is what you decide to climb. Empty stomach, ruined shoulder, shaking legs, deep dead eyes.

Your clothes cling to you. They make you small. He can hardly breathe in the cold as he rushes to catch up, dripping what he's sure are icicles, and you look as if you could hardly stay conscious in it. Does your face feel as red as it looks? Friction or fever? “Captain!” And it’s obvious Bakugou can’t decide on his volume, but bulldozes after you nonetheless husky with exertion, “fuckin wait–”

There are sandy paths beaten into this seaside hill, small like children made them on their happy little way to swim. Bakugou makes quick work of it. You hike. You put all your effort into staying on two feet through a chill you could hardly ever imagine. Heat pounds in your temples, cruelly imitating Alderan fire when really it’s something poisoned like liquor.

“Please don’t follow me sir,” you call over the wind when the prince gets a few steps too close to catching up and he makes a sound almost like words, like words you shot dead in his throat. You know that sound because you have been shot at the same exact angle. Deadly isn’t it? He falls back.

Just for a moment Bakugou stops and watches, filled with something neither of you have the words for yet. Recovering just as quickly as you are succumbing to exhaustion.

Wait, he stares. Just– “Y/n.”

Wrapped in white, you are framed by rolling seagrass in the moonlight. You finally stop climbing and turn. You like a half-drowned painting. In a furred cape you might be a queen. From your spot smiling sadly at the edge of the world, your nose has started to bleed.

“Give me an order.”

Six and shaking in his hands. Eleven soaked in a fruit filled hallway, always working and fond of libraries. Sense of humor that doubles over his queen. Often covered in blood, staring too earnestly right now for him to remember that anger might fix this. Bakugou doesn’t breathe.

You turn back towards the castle alone and for the very last time, your body keeps the tears at bay. On a hill of swaying green grass and bright in the moonlight, your prince, frozen, looks so much like his mother you should kill him for it.

You always thought you were hiding from him on duty, only slightly more stealthy than a dragon. It got better when Jeanist stopped training you in chainmail, but your excitement at every small job bounced off the walls of his castle so obviously. Squirrel duty? You helped a hundred bastards back outside without pause. Sent up to swept bookshelves under the Great Oak and you're the only person he’s ever seen hum to themself so high in the air. Stable duty? Stable master more like. Seven and stacking stools to reach the saddles before Jeanist set you back on the ground by your scruff like his kitten. Bakugou can’t remember what went first, your heartbeat or his hearing.

The very first time you snuck up on him was in August under a plum tree, nine years old. He slept beside his book in the shade on a perfect day, perfectly alone and free of tutoring for the afternoon. Maybe because you were barefoot, but somehow even out of breath, the only thing that gave you away was your voice.

“Careful Highness.” He shot awake with that and figured for a moment that you were a dream while his eyes adjusted to the light through the leaves behind you– panting above him and holding tight to a plum. Like premonition your other hand lurched to catch another as it fell toward him, “they’re ready for harvest.”

Bakugou sat up. Off at an impossible distance for you to have run to catch plums, Jeanist stood beside a hanging line of red uniforms waving a beckoning hand.

“Laundry calls,” you whispered. As the little prince turned stupidly back to you above him, you set both plums on the grass beside his book and bowed.

Wait.

“Maybe a nap in the vineyard? Grapes won't bruise.”

Wait, I know you.

He watched you bow one last time and jog out of the shade back to Jeanist and Alderan laundry, just as he watches you stumble now in the dark, towards the faraway lights of a castle without the fire you need.

Wait!

“Y/n!” Bakugou bursts over the ridge and back onto marble pavement, what the fuck is he gonna do– your name won’t work twice, he’s wasted too much time. “Captain!”

You pay him no mind drifting away with your back still turned and with even less coordination than when you dragged yourself from the sea. You are deteriorating– fuck, fuck it. Bakugou, brimming with something to the left of anger, charges. If you hear him coming you do nothing to stop him. Not as he closes your distance with eight good strides and slings you over his shoulder.

"I–!" you jerk to strike instinctively, “Put me down!”

Good, you can shout. He still has time, you’re still alive. He’ll apologize for touching you later, for hesitating and staring, he will say everything he set aside in anger when you are not trying to kill yourself.

“Put me down,” you hiss like you know you’re one of three people that can make his skin prickle with threat.

“Not a chance.”

You grip the back of his tunic, clinging so wet to his body that you grab equal parts flesh and he turns away from your path to the glowing front gates all those hundreds of meters away, to kick in a door on an insignificant corner of an insignificant annex in the shadows of the castle that is only unlocked because it’s the same one he flew from, instead of his window, when he was trying not to startle you with his magic and into the sea.

You will spend summers in rainstorms and autumns in his orchards because you are Alderan and he will kill Takoban gods to get you there. Your nails on his back begin to burn with your silence and it’s haunting not only because you weigh less to him than a phantom, but because the smell of the sea follows you inside when there is no one else left to close the door. Immediately it is warmer without the wind but he will not slow until he finds fire, because you are gripping him instead of screaming again– because you are freezing to death and he will not let you win under new circumstances after he worked so hard to save you from the first.

This part of the castle is his, below the kitchens, the deep white underbelly in the cliff over the sea where no one will find him except cooks and staff who keep his secret and the queen who kindly ordered these quarters before she lost her mind. There is no difference of weight or warmth when he sets you down without a fight in front of the only red door in the hall. You aren’t a ghost. Even if you aren’t convincing. He throws the door open.

You would win in a contest but Bakugou too can make a steady fire. It’s still chirping bright in his fireplace when he crowds you inside of his quarters. Wood and furs. The smell of bread, everything so unlike Takoba. Small. Hard surfaces cushioned or covered in anticipation of winter, with red and gold and wool, forest tapestries from home– and it is a small victory that you take another step, then another, deeper inside without hint or suggestion.

“where are we?”

“You need to change,” Bakugou dismisses when you’re far enough inside to close the door, and pulls open a cherry chest of drawers at the foot of his bed. It’s draped in pelts and pillows. Faded herbs hang in bundles above you.

“have clothes in my room.”

“Didn’t ask.” When he looks over his shoulder, you are wobbling towards the fire like a starving woman, with two hands reaching subtly from your side. Good, shut up and warm up. Bakugou rifles through his options one more time and grimaces, raising his own black Alderan riding tunic aloft; it’s the only thing that’s going to be long enough to cover all of you.

He’ll sort out this shitshow step by step– dry you off, shout scream scold, get you warm, shout some more– a good Alderan lecture, and then tie you to him if he must since you obviously can’t be trusted alone. Walking into the sea when you thought everyone was sleeping. And for what? He grinds his teeth and grips the sids of his dresser with the realization that he’s probably not going to sleep again tonight. He’d kill you if that wasn’t what you so obviously wanted.

“Alright asshole, get ch–” Bakugou chokes when he turns back to you, sitting politely fireside with a dagger materialized in your good hand, blade pressed flat to your collar. He jumps, black tunic flying and shouts indiscernibly in a lunge for the weapon.

Not fast enough because by the time he makes one step, you’ve driven the blade down your chest and clear through your shirt. It falls open and your bare ribs seize in goosebumps this close to the fire, “told you I’m not trying to kill myself.”

“Drop it!” He wails, as if to a dog.

Oh how you will haunt him until the end of time. A month with you, just some soldier from his castle– a prodigal apprentice in a kingdom of geniuses– an impersonable, silent, invisible guard, who should cause harm only when necessary and appear only in danger– a woman who does this job to a tee, and still somehow steals his attention to any corner of the room she conceals herself in– just a month and you have beguiled him. Reaping grim satisfaction from watching you wreak havoc in this place he loathes.

You sit in front of his fire in his secret room, half bare now that you’ve decided to cut your clothes off of yourself, and entirely bare when you run the lip of the dagger across your shoulder to catch the fabric and then rough straight down the other side. You are pink from heat and staring through him entirely unfocused, all chaotic braids and parted lips. There’s a dry track of blood smeared under your nose and he shudders to think what part of his back it was wiped on while he was carrying you away. The fingertips of your scar peek into free air. Bakugou can’t spin around fast enough, howling in anger.

You sound like you’re smiling again mournfully like last time, “following orders, sir.”

“Don’t call me that!” He roars and shoves the black tunic behind his back towards you. This room is small, maybe five paces wide, and so he sits as far as he can from you on the floor beside his bed, still within arms reach. Back turned.

What the fuck is so funny? This isn’t a headache this is sustained torture. Bakugou’s own wet clothes cling to him in dry patches of salt and stick and grit that he’s desperate to bathe away just as soon as you are tethered to another magician. In another kingdom. You breathe heavily behind him in a mismatch between effort and task and then a sopping thud reminds Bakugou that you are stripping to nothing behind him and piling your rags onto his fine rugs.

“You’re a fucking nightmare.”

“you’ll be free of me in a moment.”

And it dawns on him, seasick irony, that there isn’t a person alive in this kingdom but him who could stop you from doing a single thing.

“If you think I’m letting you out of my sight you’re concussed.”

You pause your fiddling behind him for a second before resuming and you’re close enough that he can still hear your less than methodic pulling and ripping. A huff here and there. In the seconds it takes you to speak again your voice is still laced with the amusement that makes his skin crawl, “third time I’ve told you I’m not trying to kill myself.”

“Save it– just hurry up.”

“was just saying a prayer.”

“Save. It. An excuse that fulla holes wouldn’t even work on Kirishima the naif.”

“because nothing gets past the Champion.”

Bakugou erupts, out of unwounded fists to clench, and jerks around with every intention of barking at you. He’s not sure what he pictured before turning and he’s not sure where his voice went, but you are sat beside his fire draped in his black tunic with an expression he can hardly find the words for.

What is it in the way your shoulders hang? Exhaustion? The way your chin tips or your eyes flutter? Hunger? You watch him like you’ll eat him alive, like your life is the least of his concerns. The laces at your collar drape limp over your fingers from where you gave up their tying and so the shirt hangs loose and open, and much much too big. Bakugou has never thought of the shape your sternum makes between your breasts or what color the fine hair on your thighs might be. He knows the answers now because you’ve given up on posture like a selkie out of water and everything so unlike his Captain– because something inside of you is slipping.

“don’t bother the Champion with this,” your voice is still draconian. Even as your body fails, your eyes are still dark and infinite and possessive beside the glow of his fireplace and under a window that looks out over black water, “or Lady Mina, or your Lords. Don’t worry them with me.”

Bakugou mirrors you unconsciously in the way he sits close enough to touch. Why do you say that? You keep saying it, ‘Lady Mina,’ all month the same thing. Sir Sero, like he’s not a soldier in Jeanist’s rear guard. Like Mina and Denki didn’t grow up in the castle with you all to learn magic fifteen years ago.

“They’re not,” he admits because something about you unraveling by the sea sucks the malice like marrow from his bones. Maybe something inside of him is slipping too.

The pair of you slouch on the soft rugs from home and sticky with foreign salt, looking. Your next smile seems to take every ounce of strength, “what?”

“They’re not lords.”

And in a rush, such horror ignites in the eaves of this tiny room like an Alderan dollhouse. It is a grease fire film of oil on water. He is the match. You drop your head to your shoulder and start to laugh like Bakugou isn’t watching the life evaporate from the top of your head and out his window in the heat that pinks your cheeks and blotches your chest. You laugh like you have life to spare, “course they’re not.”

You manage enough coordination to hold the chest of his tunic closed with one hand as you rise, still giggling bitter, nothing like the bells you rang for Todoroki.

“Stop–” Bakugou reaches for you as you walk past him towards the door but stops short of touching even the air.

“dream something sweet Highness, I won’t interrupt again.”

“Oi, wait–” He gathers himself awkwardly barefoot and still dripping seawater, to catch the door before you pull it open. You bow your head and reach for the knob at the same time as he manages to slam his palm and weight against it in case you decide you have enough life left to fight.

“Told you, you’re not leaving my sight.”

Maybe staring isn’t so much a habit as it is a system to keep you from collapsing under the weight of Alderan sun. You who watch the world carefully so that when you attack it is silent and succinct. As long as you’re only looking, just watching carefully, the world will never be in danger of you spilling the secrets obvious only to you, and your kingdom won’t have to acknowledge the war crimes it takes to teach a kid how to kill.

Bakugou looms above you and rests against his door on a forearm. You raise your head like it’s lead to look at him. Your mouth even opens to speak but then something like fire punches to life in the blacks of your eyes.

It’s not a blink this time, it’s a stutter at first– and your face is so flushed that it almost looks like you’re glowing– before something you see feeds the kindling to roaring. For a blessed second you aren’t smiling. You stare so deeply into your prince he can’t look away for long enough to realize that you’re reaching for him.

Why? Why are you leaning closer?

The first heat pools at the hinge of his jaw and then scalding follows. Why are your hands so hot? You pinch his earlobe between thumb and pinky and let your fingers graze over the ridges of ear just so gently that sparks itch where sweat prickles at his neck.

It’s still for a second before chills, agonizing, erupt up his spine, bone by bone as he realizes– as your prince’s face drops and his own hand jumps to reach his ears and what’s no longer there. His right hand grasps at Alderan gold, a tiny sun. His left only cups yours, so much smaller– and the ghost of your earring lost somewhere deep at sea. Six and bleeding in his hands, all grown up and at his mercy.

“I hate you.” You smile in anguish.

You don’t bother pulling your hand from his, only rest your head against the door and let your heavy eyes finally close. Nothing to hold back the freshwater tears now.

Bakugou almost isn’t fast enough in his shock to catch you when you begin to slide down the wall in collapse, “Y– shit– Y/n!” One hand pulls up on your own and the other reaches around your back to try and bring you into him instead of hard against the wooden floor like he’s still a prince and not just a man whose heart won’t stop racing.

“Y/n? Y/n,” he shuffles you in his lap where you landed, and breathes the shapes he hopes make the sound of your name as he searches, distracted. You are limp in his arms and entirely too warm to have been freezing to death a few minutes ago. Lips parted and rolling like you’re trying to speak. Running to safety with you on his shoulder, the seachill must have hidden your fever from him. He cradles your head to check for blood and holds your cheek when his fingers come out dry from your hair, "c'mon, Captain."

“majesty..”

Your heartbreaking laughter still bubbles up in quiet sobs and incoherence murmured through abandoned ego, “..m sorry,” when you manage to see through the tears for a moment before falling unconscious again. Every apology laced always with “mitsuki.” You must have been holding it back. You must have been keeping the fever at bay by sheer force of will because now on the floor against him, your body is so hot it’s making his chest clammy. Sweat has soaked into the nooks of your black tunic and pools in salt licks between your breasts. Fuck Alderan fire.

Your prince gathers your shoulders and chest, your waist hips and exhaustion, into a bundle in his arms and pulls himself up with his doorknob because he will not let you drown, he will not let you freeze, and you will not win by setting yourself on fire. As he rises, blood leaks again from your nose. Tears fall aimlessly against his heart split to six like a pomegranate. When Bakugou is king there will be no child soldiers.

PREV | M.LIST | TAGLIST | NEXT

tagged angels ✧.* @nnubee @nonomesupposedto @zombiewarprincess @kotarousproperty @strawberry-mentos69 @sveetnn @lunrai @km7474 @arayoflia @cathwritestragediesnotsins @idimmadontgiveashit @kooromin @k1tk4tkatsuki @litiri @kiwibao @sarcasticlittlebook @condy-wants-a-cookie @mysticalfridge @falling4fandoms @katanaski @romiinlove @cherripunch26 @acid-rain27 @bakugouswh0r3 @zukowantshishonourback @ultracrii @chandiewashere @screechingdreameater @mecuryxmoonstone @onlysarcasm @ilovemushroomss @when-you-are-just-done @levisbae2 @flyhighinthesky @1astr0id1 @thebluespacecow @mizzfizz @butterscotch-ripple-icecream @phoenix-draws77 @ltadoriyuujl

#told you ch 12 was steamy #insofar as its hot and wet #can you tell im the eldest daughter?#a hymn to black water #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #fantasy bakugou #fantasy bakugo #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha fantasy au #mha fantasy au #bakugou fantasy au #bakugo fantasy au

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yuwigqi · 2 months

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Batfam members by which obscure Olympic Sport(s) they would be (its a stunt for charity or something):

Bruce: His inquisitive nature leads him to ask: Is there a limit on how many Sports You're Allowed to Compete In? Not for him. He wins gold in Golf, Diving, Badminton, Greco-Roman Wrestling, Ice Dancing with Cass (she's not going to prom of course, so this is his best chance at a father-daughter dance) BMX Racing, Men's Skeet (he has nothing against sport shooting! Honest!), Dressage, and Weightlifting (wait? 860 KILOS??), and Beach Volleyball (Dick is his partner). In fact, he already did sports with Dick and Cass! Why not all his kids! Badminton with Bette (she's basically his niece, come on now), Tennis with Jason, Luge with Tim (Tim literally falls asleep on top of him), and 3x3 Basketball with Damian and Duke.

Kate: Kate runs a poll on twitter asking for the "Straightest sport possible" and that's how she ends up doing a fucking 50 kilometer race walk. Why the fuck is walking an Olympic Sport?? I don't know Kathy, its for charity, just do it please. So for one day, Kate turns into Karen, and speed walks 3. Fucking. Hours. Kate is tempted to melt her Bronze of course its fucking bronze medal down into parts for nose piercings out of malic

Luke: Obvs wants to go into a combat sport. Which is why Dick purposefully tells he he wouldn't be able to do anything else, and dares him to try Artistic Gymnastics. He gets Gold in Rings and Silver in Pommel Horse and Vault

Dick: Dick wants to challenge himself by doing the other Gymnastics he's never done. So he signs up for Rhythmic Gymnastics! But...it's a women-only sport. Which is why Dick comes out as genderfluid and is a woman specifically for the games (cue Tim being fucking furious at Dick about enforcing negative stereotypes). And naturally, Dick wins. But also....you know...he kind of really feels...empowered with she/her pronouns. Like....it feels right. And thus, it took winning an Olympic Sport for Dick to realize he was bigender all along.

Bette: She's like actually a Tennis player, so that. Also, she idolizes Dick and wants to impress him with her super good Gymnastics skills. After winning the gold she bites it in tradition, and it actually bends. She actually ended up with a fucking poorly made tin medal fuck this is so embarrassing noone look at me

Babs: Curling, another weird fucking sport. It's basically like shuffleboard on ice. And honestly, like, its not an athletic sport. Honestly, you probably could do it in a wheelchair. And a huge part of it is technique and intellect. It was MADE for Oracle. After she wins Tesla reachers out for a sponsorship deal to make a robotic wheelchair, and Babs makes a working spaceship just to fucking spite Elon. She also hacks X and removes all the X branding, literally turning it back into Twitter.

Jason: I kid you not, in 2024 they will add competitive breakdancing To the Summer games. Jason is on the first U.S. team. It...you know there were worse ways to make money on the streets than street performing...and you know...it was fun too...I made like $74 one day outside an iHop. No shit fuck Babs don't look for it please don't fuck no please

Tim: Skateboarding has also been recently added to the Olympics. Tim isn't allowed to put his Superboy stickers on it because Young Justice happen to be involved in several international incidents.

Steph: Everyone remembers Steph lived in Africa, but no one even bothered to ask her about it, much less ask which country. Ethiopia, thank you for asking. Curious how they offered her citizenship right after she announced her Olympic plans. Steph wins gold in Speed Skating, giving the continent of Africa its first ever medal in the Winter Games. (She mentions this every single time possible)

Dami: Modern Pentathlon is by far the weirdest fucking sport in existence, but Dami loves it. He gets to swordfight, shoot things, and most importantly. meet a horse.

Cass: Karate kata. Cass in a combat sport would just be unfair, so she does the Kata, just showing off the execution and form. Ice Dancing with Bruce, as mentioned earlier. Her outfit is based on the Black Swan, of course. Frustratingly Bruce is much better at it than her, and she's unsure why. Until it dawns on her she's competing and he's having fun with his daughter. After she stops caring about scores, they two get the highest score in history.

Duke: Artistic Swimming. 2024 is the first year men will be allowed. "No Bruce, I'm isn't going to use my powers to see easily in the water, god." And showing off his abs to that pretty girl in his Women's Studies Elective is definitely not part of his choice of sport. Nope. (She's turned off by his puberty acne, and Duke cries in his room for 8 days straight)

Harper: No Bruce. No Steph. Fuck you Cass. No. No. No. Hey Harper, just wanna let you know, as part of the charity thing, we're doing a gala, and Bernard's busy. Do you think Cullen would like to go?...Fine Tim, I'll do it, for Cullen. Harper of course needs to do something to make an impact though. If she's gonna do this shit, she might as well have fun with it. Which is why she starts a one-woman crusade to add a new sport. It takes petitions, conferences, and a few million dollars in charitable donations to the IOC...but a new sport is added, and Harper Rowe because the Olympic's first ever gold medalist in Sumo Wrestling.

#This was fun to make #Batman #Batfam #Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson #Kate Kane #Luke Fox #Jason Todd #Bette Kane #Barbara Gordon #Stephanie Brown #Cassandra Cain #Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #Duke Thomas #Harper Row #Alfred of course makes them take group photos with their medals when they get home

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usaigi · 7 months

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Modern Blue Lions headcanons

Dimitri

Has difficulties with fine motor skills following the car accident that killed his family and Glenn. Has to use accommodating tools like specific silverware and a laptop to take notes in class. Kids used to be jealous that he got use a laptop in class but he just wanted to be normal

Regular member of his school GSA but everyone assume he's just a straight ally because look at him. Look at his hair. He's straight. His classmates don't discover he's actually bi until a week before graduation when they see him kiss Felix

Also a regular member of the BIPOC solidarity club. Dimitri, Dorothea, Ashe and Constance are the token white allies.

(mental health spiraling) "haha puberty/hormones :) No need to discuss these new symptoms with anyone, it's just normal teenager things" (it is not normal teenage things)

Annette

banned from home ec after starting a fire while making a salad... She's was trying to make homemade croutons...

girl ADHD :)

she got a B on a chem test one and cried about it for 2 days straight

"Maybe if I get all A and get this many awards and get this many scholarships, my dad will love me :)" (girl.. :( )

Frenemies with Lysithea. They're buddies until it's time for exams. Then it's war. There can only be one valedictorian. (death note's "I'll take a potato chip and eat it" songs plays in the background)

Olivia Rodrigo stan

Sylvain

Hasn't said "okay i'm sorry that I looked at Mrs Riley and lightly grazed her left tit" but has said that exact same thing

friend with a car. "yeah we can all fit into my Audi; Annette and Ashe are tiny, just squeeze in and pretend you like each other. We can stick Felix in the trunk" "I'll kill you."

He's in Lacross AND theatre. Ice hockey AND Ice dancing and figure skating. He can do both, he's bisexual

Has to pick between a major sport game and his theatre show. His dad wants him to follow his dream and do the game but Sylvain is getting ready to tell him "no dad i'm giving up your dream." He backs out. He goes to the game.

"You got a perfect score on the college entrance exams?" "Why is it hard?" (he studied so much)

Ingrid

"Gay people are real??? They don't just exist in San Francisco and on Glee???" /gen confusion. Not in a homophobic way, she's just raised in a conservative environment and instead of going on the internet, she hangs out with her horses (Just wait till she finds out about trans people)

When her family was going through a particularly hard financial time, her friends started packing extra lunch. They all know she doesn't accept handouts but Ingrid will never say no to leftovers.

So chronically offline. Who's Billie Eilish? What's Succession? What is Rizz?? They're making another Spider-Man movie!?

Dedue

Vice-president of the BIPOC solidarity club. The school gives them club money and he uses it to make food for the members.

"..." "Go on" "Down with... gringo?" *Claude, Petra, Felix, Cyril, Hapi, Constance, Dimitri, Ashe and Dorothea all clap*

Football/Basketball/Hockey couches keep trying to recruit him. He just wants to garden.

(Tw racism and ref to violence to poc men) "I don't want to antagonist white people. As a large brown man, I'm already perceived as a threat." "That's ok! Your safety comes first. I got this," Dorothea says as she throws eggs at someone's car with a confederate flag.

Mercedes

"I'm joining the war on liberation theology on the side of liberation theology."

"Mercedes! Can you explain your tardiness?" "Forgive me, professor, I was at morning mass." (She was. But she's late because she stop to smoke a blunt.)

In her most angelic, big sister voice, "fuck TradCaths 😊"

Somehow still failing her religious studies class

(tw cults and implied anti semitic conspiracy) Raised in a religious cult where her step dad was the leader until she and her mom escaped. Because of this, did not know Jewish people were real. "I knew they were people in the bible but all I knew was [redact]" (Don't worry, she knows better now that she's not in a literal cult)

Felix

"I fucking hate my dad" "why? Is it cause he didn't accept you being queer/trans?" "No, he was cool with that. He's just fucking annoying."

"Ingrid, what the hell, I'm literally trans. You know this. We've been friends since we were in diapers." "Oh. I forgot." "YOU FORGOT!?"

Wasian. (tw sui joke) @ Dimitri and Sylvain "stop joking about killing yourself--you're appropriating my culture, assholes."

Secret Olivia Rodrigo fan. He only listens to her music on youtube + incognito mode. Only Annette knows. Annette manages to get them concert tickets were they run into Lysithea.

Ashe

Spider-Man stan on main. Somehow he convinces Dedue to be his Ned Leeds to his Peter Parker for Halloween

He knows Ingrid would like the MCU if she watched it, but she's scared of needing to watch 10000 movies

*slaps Ashe's back* You can pack so much anxiety in this guy

Started school in the middle of the year because he's a foster kid. Rumors started spread about him being a harden criminal because he went to juvie. He keeps tries to correct them and say he's never been but Caspar keeps fueling the rumors

"Caspar! Stop telling people I went to juvie! That never happened!" "...You... lied to me? :(" "You made it up!" "Oooh. Right."

#dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #annette fantine dominic #dedue molinaro #sylvain jose gautier #ingrid brandl galatea #ashe ubert #felix hugo fraldarius #mercedes von martritz #dorothea arnault #caspar von bergliez #lysithea von ordelia #fe3h #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem three hopes fanart #fe16 #blue lions #usaigi speaks #heacanons

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buttercupjosh · 1 month

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White Horse

(Gif credit to @pyotrkochetkov)

Word count: 2,588

Genres: strangers to lovers to exes, angst

Warnings: none

A/N: I’ve had pieces of details of this fic in mind for a while and one night, I just decided to write it all out. This story is based off of the song “White Horse" by Taylor Swift. It is shorter than what I normally write but I decided to challenge myself a bit with a word count limit (my goal was to make it under 3,000 words). It’s not set at a specific moment in time (It’s taking place in a fictional future but you could also say that it’s set in the future and this season. However, the season is still ongoing at the moment and anything can happen or change so don’t hold me to what occurs in the fic and if things do change in real life, I’m not going to update this fic to reflect that). It’s written with a female reader in mind because I’m a female of color but the reader doesn’t specifically have to be a POC or a woman and there’s little dialogue. As always, I’m open to any and all feedback, comments or questions; just put them in my inbox or dm me. Thank you so much in advance for reading, I appreciate it😌

(P.S. I have other stories (linked here) that I have written for other players as well if you want to check it out)

“What was the plan? Absolve your guilt and shake hands?” -Night Shift by Lucy Dacus

By all definitions, Raleigh, North Carolina was not a small town but sometimes it felt like it was. The Triangle had a lot to offer but was a bit of an underrated place; Raleigh wasn’t as bustling and busy like other places in the South but you loved the city you called home. One of the very few things that brought people together there was college sports and Canes hockey. The Carolina Hurricanes were the only professional major league team in town so the team’s likeness was everywhere you looked. Seeing their faces around town, you would have never imagined that you would actually end up dating a player from that team.

You met your hockey-playing boyfriend in an untraditional way. You had worked for UNC Health and being a sponsor of the team, the company hosted a raffle for an employee to win a ticket to represent the company at Canes Bash. You surprisingly won and represented the organization well with your kind and respectful demeanor. That demeanor ended up winning over the heart of Canes forward Andrei Svechnikov. Andrei knew that this event was to spend time with season ticket holders and sponsors to get them to bring in more money for the Carolina Hurricanes Foundation but he was so enamored by you in the brief interaction you had. Throughout the rest of the evening, Andrei was pulled into all different directions around PNC Arena but his eyes kept gazing around the room to try to find you again. Not giving up on his quest to reconnect with you, he ended up writing his phone number on a napkin and giving it to Gracia Skjei to give to you. Before setting out on her journey to look for you in the sea of people, Gracia went into the bathroom and actually ran into you on her way out. She handed you the napkin with Andrei’s number on it; you couldn’t believe that a hockey WAG was casually giving you the phone number of her husband’s teammate and the teammate in question was a star on the team. You were taken aback that your short interaction with Andrei had impacted him so much that he wanted to talk to you more.

You did reach out to Andrei and on a Saturday after a morning skate, you met up for the first time since Canes Bash for smoothies. As expected, that first laidback date of getting to know each other more led to a formal dinner date where you saw a more fancier side of Andrei and it all led up to establishing a loving romantic relationship.

Being with Andrei was like being in the starring role of a box-office smash romance movie. Your relationship with Andrei was almost too perfect in such a way that other people could be jealous of it. Due to Andrei’s status as one of the top Canes players, people knew about your relationship with him and sometimes would stop and ask you for a picture. You had an amazing, loving boyfriend, who was everything you ever dreamed of and more. You lived together in a beautiful shared home and had a small goldendoodle named Charlie. You had an amazing friend group with the other WAGs and got along well with all of Andrei’s friends and family. You got to go on lavish vacations with your handsome partner, who wasn’t afraid to show you off to the world. You had it all and all you needed was a ring to top it all off. Like any other couple, you and Andrei’s relationship did have its challenges and struggles but these disagreements and setbacks didn’t cause your relationship to crumble. The image of living in presumed perfection would soon be broken in the most unexpected way.

————————————————————

The annual Canes’ moms trip was approaching soon and Elena, Andrei’s mom and possibly your future mother-in-law, was coming to support her son. It was going to be her first time at the new home you shared with Andrei; you had spent the whole week trying to get everything in order for her arrival and her subsequent stay for a month after the moms trip. You were excited to get to see and spend time with Elena but that excitement soon shifted.

You knew what time Elena’s flight was supposed to land and the amount of time it would take for Andrei to get home after picking her up from the airport but it seemed like Andrei was running unusually late. On the shared location app on your phone, you could see that Andrei was home from picking up his mother from the airport but you saw that he had been sitting in his car in the garage for over 15 minutes after arriving. Concerned, you went to go check on Andrei and Elena to make sure that they were okay but you accidentally caught him in a heated exchange in Russian with his mother. You didn’t quite understand what he was angrily saying but whatever it was about, it had him on fire. Elena’s eyes gazed over at you and the waterline of her eyes looked like it was filling up with tears. The arguing between mother and son stopped once Andrei noticed you were standing in the doorway. The color on Andrei’s face immediately drained from red with anger to white with fear. He quickly got out of the car, opened his mom’s door, and helped with her luggage. Elena gave you a tearful hug before going up to settle in the guest room. It was odd that she didn’t say anything upon seeing you and the atmosphere of the house was still thick with tension. You asked Andrei about what happened and why he was extremely upset with his mother but he just muttered something under his breath in Russian. He refused to look at you as you questioned him but you could sense that Andrei was frustrated and that something deeper had to be going on. Elena came downstairs to grab some water before giving a cryptic answer to her child’s behavior.

“Andrei, I love you but you know what you have to do. If you really love y/n, you would tell the truth”, Elena said before slipping out of the kitchen with her glass of water.

Andrei bursted into tears after his mother left the kitchen. You had seen Andrei cry before so this wasn’t a new sight for you but you wanted to know what was bothering him. You tried to comfort Andrei but he coldly shut you down and you had thought Elena was going to comfort her son but she did not. You sat in a worried silence for what felt like an eternity and the only sound in the room was Andrei’s heavy breathing from crying. Once Andrei fully stopped crying and rehydrated, you calmly asked him for one last time what was wrong and he took a deep breath before revealing what was causing him so much distress at the moment.

“I’m a dad,” Andrei quietly said, “I have a son back in Russia and I’m sorry that I never told you.”

You couldn’t quite believe the words you fell from the lips that you loved to kiss and felt like you were frozen in time, still trying to process the information that you just received. You were in disbelief and began pacing around the living room as Andrei explained what happened.

The summer before you met, Andrei was still deep in his playboy ways and ended up getting a girl named Lana pregnant back in Russia. Since their relationship was merely a hook-up that resulted in a child being conceived, it was hard for Andrei to believe that he was the father of her child but once Alexei was born, he couldn’t deny the baby boy. Alexei had Andrei’s eyes, the same brown ones that you adored, and dimples in his cheeks, just like his dad. While he was visiting his family during the off-season, Andrei took a paternity test and as everyone expected, he was Alexei’s father. You were in Russia with Andrei when the test was conducted but you didn’t know that was what his doctor’s appointment was for; the day of the test, Elena took you shopping. After the paternity test confirmation, Andrei did meet Alexei once as a baby and he was overcome with emotion to see the reflection of some of his genetic features as he held his small precious son in his large arms.

Andrei was stuck between a rock and a hard place; he had already moved on from his fling with Lana with you and he wasn’t interested in moving Lana and their son to the States so he decided to send them checks monthly to provide for them while they remained in Russia. His family was still involved in his child’s life, spending time with Alexei and keeping Andrei up to date on his son. Andrei didn’t like controversy or drama so if he kept the information about Alexei confidential, he didn’t have to worry as much about it coming to light because it was being managed in the dark. He also expressed that he felt like he wasn’t ready to be a father at that time but he would want to be a father when he’s older. You understood where Andrei was coming from but felt like it was a bit unfair that you got this great life with him while the mother of his son and his child didn’t have that with him. His son was over a year old and he barely knew Andrei in the way that you had known Andrei in the time that you had been dating. Putting a timeline together, you had also concluded that Lana was pregnant when you met Andrei and had given birth by the time you started dating.

Suddenly, a much more painful realization came to light: if Elena had not talked to Andrei about keeping his secret child from you when she came to visit, you realized that Andrei possibly would have never told you about Alexei. You and Andrei did discuss marriage and having children so you knew he was serious about experiencing those things with you and had dreamed of a happy ending together but a future with Andrei didn’t feel right anymore because you could have gotten married and had kids with him and never known a single thing about Alexei. You were right: Andrei never had a set plan in place or moment in time to tell you about his son because he was handling it behind the scenes and that’s all that you needed to know.

How could you ever trust Andrei again if he was able to keep this big of a secret from you? He didn’t have the common courtesy to tell you about his son so what else could he be hiding from you? You honestly believed in Andrei but he let you down and now, you don’t believe a single thing from him going forward. Throughout your relationship, you also had to deal with rumors of Andrei’s alleged cheating and you trusted that he remained faithful to you but now, you weren’t so sure since he just proved that he was so good at keeping secrets from you. You knew that this had occurred before you had gotten together but after this revelation, you realized that you didn’t want to be with Andrei anymore. You thought you truly knew Andrei but it was like the man that you fell in love with turned into a stranger.

You weren’t a princess and this wasn’t a fairytale with a happy ending; Raleigh wasn’t Hollywood so there was no reconciliation plot device or changes to the script to make everything better. Although you loved your job, you were also even more upset because Andrei promised to always provide for you and wanted you to quit working but he was also providing to a part of his family under the table; transparency and honesty were so important to you and all of that was out the window. Maybe you would be more open to staying with him if he had told you sooner instead of dragging you along for over a year without a clue. Andrei had thought that if he could fulfill his role as a father by financially providing for Alexei back home and building a future in the U.S. with you, he would be fine. He also thought you would be more accepting and willing to work things out after finding out the news but he destroyed all your trust in him.

Andrei begged you on his knees for your forgiveness and for you to stay with a puppy dog look, like how Charlie would whenever he wanted treats, but it was too late. The damage was already done and he had to accept that. Andrei was like a knight in shining armor, strutting around on his white horse to save the day but he wasn’t allowed to catch you. In one swift fall, the relationship with the prince in your love story was over. Andrei had to step up to the plate and realize that he couldn’t create an ideal life with someone while keeping huge secrets. Andrei having a secret child was a huge obstacle to overcome and you stepped out of his way so that he could focus on effectively co-parenting with Lana and being a more present father to Alexei; maybe someone else would be stronger enough to be involved with Andrei but that person was not going to be you.

It wasn’t easy to walk away from all that you had with Andrei because you truly did love him. He was a great dog dad to Charlie, his heart was deeply ignited for those that he loved, he was so humble and caring to others, his touch was the most comforting feeling to you, and he always knew how to make you smile. Andrei had the face of an angel and brown eyes that you could easily get lost in but you couldn’t even look at him the same way. You felt so naive and foolish about living in a fantasy with your relationship with Andrei and you should have known better about your presumed picture perfect relationship. A part of you wanted to give him another chance but you felt so betrayed by Andrei and had a difficult time overlooking how he hurt you. You apologized to Andrei and forgave him for keeping such important information from you but you did not want anything else to do with him. This incident made you realize that you deserved better than this and deserve to be with someone who would actually treat you well so you did what was best for you.

In the days since you split from Andrei, Elena and her son went on the moms’ trip and you began packing your things with help from Gracia Skjei and some of the other WAGs. They were going to miss you and you would miss them too but you needed to get out of Raleigh and start fresh somewhere new. As you drove with Charlie as your passenger, you looked up for a brief second and saw the face of a man that you once loved on a billboard. You watched the City of Oaks disappear from your rearview mirror and headed towards whatever awaited you in the rest of this big world.

#andrei svechnikov #carolina hurricanes #andrei svechnikov x reader #Andrei svechnikov imagine #hockey fic #my writing #hockey writing

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bropunzeling · 6 months

Note

jess bropunzelling i would die if i got a director's cut/alternate pov of leon's response to matthew accidentally popping the question post coutal. how is she chewing on this!!! are her flight or fight instincts kicking in!!! what makes her suddenly decide actually today works best but tomorrow is also fine!

Just think about it.

Leon stares down the exercise bike, then grimly hops on and starts pedaling. Despite how hard she's pushing herself, she can't not remember what Matthew said last weekend, the way he had broken the comfortable silence that had settled between them.

Just think about it.

Over the past few years, Leon has prided herself on not getting too mad at Matthew. Okay, on the ice is one thing. He practically expects it. And of course they fight -- but it's mostly teasing. Who has the better hometown. Where to go during their limited time together. Winning and losing at video games, or horse, or the stupid challenges they set for themselves throughout the season around points streaks. It's not about big stuff. When it comes to big stuff, they've been good. Talking through things. Noticing shit before it can grow into something poisonous, that brings out the worst in them both.

Right now, though, she's pretty mad.

She can't believe he fucking sprung that on her. Talking about -- and it was ten in the goddamn morning, and she was naked and her thighs were still damp and she was getting cold, the way she always does after sex, and all of the sudden he's talking about -- about marrying her.

Leon pedals harder, until the lactic acid starts burning in her quads. Then she ups the resistance.

Things have been good, is the thing. Or at least, she thought they were. Her parents like Matthew, and her sister does too. His parents like her, or at least his mom does -- she can never quite get a read on whether Big Walt actually likes her, and his advice is incredibly annoying, but Matthew doesn't seem worried, so she won't worry either. Taryn thinks she's cool, which is both flattering and kind of a trip. Even Brady's warmed up to her, and Brady nearly concussed her the year before last.

Everything has felt steady. Like Leon's finally found her sea legs. Like she's finally figured out how to manage playing as hard as she can, finding her place among her boys, and also having Matthew, too. Calling him when she's tired on the road. Spending her days off at his place when they did their swing through Florida. Planning out their bye weeks. She's navigated Christmas shopping, and more than one actual, proper date, in a restaurant with cloth napkins and everything, and she even told her grandmother -- or at least, after her mother told her grandmother first.

This summer especially she's felt like they've found a rhythm, gotten in sync. It's been comfortable. It's been easy.

And now Matthew wants to change it.

Now that Leon's legs are screaming at her, she hops off the bike and grabs a towel to wipe off the sweat. Only once she's taken care of the worst of it does she stagger off to the women's locker room and into the showers.

She wasn't lying to Matthew when she said she never thought about marriage. At sixteen, she figured she'd play until she was 35 -- 40, if she was healthy and lucky -- and then after that -- well. After that, everything else could happen. A partner. Children. Maybe moving back to Germany; maybe staying around in Canada. It was always hazy. Nothing was as clear as the scrape of skates, the noise of the crowd, the way the Cup would feel in her hands.

Now, though, she has to think about it. If nothing else, because she basically told Matthew she would.

What would it even look like, though?

As she scrubs off the sweat and grabs some shampoo from the dispenser, Leon tries to think it through. Immediately, memories from Brady's wedding last summer come to mind: the seemingly endless number of aunts and uncles and cousins who kept sucking her into conversation; all the noise that seemed to start at noon and end at midnight; the matching dresses and the speeches and the enormous cake and the dance party and the way she didn't even see Matthew until he snuck out to make out with her for ten minutes in the middle of dinner. When she tries to picture herself in Emma's place, smiling in a white dress as hundreds of people she barely knows come up to congratulate her, she wants to peel herself out of her own skin.

So. Definitely not that.

As she towels off and roots around for her street clothes in her locker, Leon tries to be logical. She knows that's not necessarily what Matthew meant. Marriage isn't a wedding, even if the thought of another enormous Tkachuk bash with her at the center of it makes her want to walk out into the wilderness and not come back. When he'd talked about it, he'd talked about permanency. About knowing she'd be there for the rest of his life.

It's more than a little frightening.

If she's honest with herself, that's the real reason she's so angry: she's fucking scared. Scared to want to tie themselves together, when it feels like they've only just figured out what being together means. Scared to choose someone -- choose Matthew -- and know that she can't take that choice back.

Scared that maybe now Matthew will realize who he thinks he wants to be with forever actually is. Someone who can't always control their temper. Who will always think about pushing him away. Even though she's trying, even though she doesn't want to be that person anymore, she knows that version of herself is still there, that it won't ever leave.

What if this time, Matthew figures out that she's too difficult to want?

Now that she's changed, Leon heads back out to the rink. Matthew and Brady are still there, horsing around. And Leon's still pretty mad -- she might always be mad; there might always be that small kernel of rage and frustration burning in the pit of her stomach for so many reasons, impossible to stamp out -- but when Matthew notices she's there and starts making his way towards her, face cracking into a wide open grin, she can feel that mix of affection and annoyance and the overwhelming desire to drag Matthew closer, to not let him out of her sight. Like a magnetic pull, impossible to ignore.

Leon may never be sure when what she felt for Matthew changed from irritation and attraction into this, this sense of love that's simultaneously comfortable and totally overwhelming. It doesn't matter. The point is that she feels it. That she wants to feel it. That she wants to care this much about somebody else, and know that they care the same amount in return.

Once Matthew's close enough, Leon grabs his jacket and drags him in; kisses him. Pulls back. "Go shower. You stink."

Matthew grins at her, eyes curving, grin somewhere between shit-stirring and soft. "Uh-huh," he says, before he sneaks another kiss.

"Shower," Leon repeats, shoving him away, before turning around to ask if Brady is getting lunch with him.

She still isn't sure that she wants that big Tkachuk wedding. Still isn't sure how to reconcile the way she imagined her life at 16 with what Matthew is asking her to consider now. Still isn't sure that this time Matthew won't finally figure out exactly the kind of person Leon is, how she's always going to be, and decide that it isn't worth it in the end.

But she is sure that she wants to have this. This intense, horrible and wonderful pressure in her chest and warmth in her limbs and sense of rightness when she and Matthew are in the same room. She doesn't want to give that up. Not now, not ever.

So. Maybe marriage is something worth thinking about.

#ask meme #girl!leon wip :)

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darlingseraa · 4 months

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I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

I remember a time when the end of a year was a magical time. It began with me being anxious for Halloween to finally come, so I could wear that beautiful princess dress my mother had sewn by hand for me. When the day came at the tail end of October, I would cry if my parents made me wear my winter coat over my dress– I wanted everyone to see how beautiful it was and how amazing my mom was for making it by hand. And yes, where I live, we got snow well before Halloween even came around– some years, we’d have snowfall in late September or early October, and other years, the snow came late. One thing was sure, however, and that was that we would have snow by Halloween.

Hence why my parents would make me wear my winter coat to go trick-or-treating, most Halloweens.

To me, Halloween meant pillowcases full of candy to eat throughout the coming year, until the next Halloween came around and I’d go trick-or-treating with my family once again, and haul two to three more pillowcases full of candy back home. It meant that the best neighbourhood to go trick-or-treating in was the one where the family on the corner street turned their yard into a giant haunted house, complete with people dressed as Hellraiser and Freddie Krueger to scare the kids and parents daring to venture in. It meant meeting up with friends who were just as dressed up for the occasion as I was. It meant teachers and students alike would come to school in costume on the day before the holiday –or during the day of Halloween itself if it was in the middle of a school week–, and it made that school day that much more fun.

And then, when Halloween came to an end, the spooky decorations would be taken down and stored away for another year. Things would be quiet for a week or two.

And then, Christmas would begin.

Yes, Christmas began two weeks after Halloween for me and my family.

I remember that, back then around mid-November, my house’s yard would be covered in snow 1 to 2 feet thick. Yes, you read that right. My dad would wake up early in the morning, take the snowblower out the shed, and he would clear out as much snow as he could from the driveway, so that he and my mom could go to work, and so my brother and I wouldn’t have to trudge through the snow to get to the school bus on time. I remember my dad building my brother and I a wooden ramp on which snow would land during snowstorms, and that we’d pack down and drench in water to create an icy slide we could play on during the winter months. I remember going skiing in powdery snow, the type of snow that acted as a cushion and made falls practically painless. I remember skating on the Rideau Canal in Ottawa, I remember going to the Village Valcartier snowpark at least once every two or three years.

I remember the beginning of winter being a sign of good days to come, because I loved winter.

And to me, the entire season felt like Christmas.

Because, by mid-November, my house was alight with decorations for the coming holidays.

I remember being overjoyed whenever I saw my parents taking out these big plastic bins from the closet downstairs, in which all of our Christmas decorations were stored throughout the year. I remember the bright red duffel bag in which our artificial Christmas tree was stored, and how there were always fake pine needles everywhere as soon as we’d open it. I remember having to unfurl every single little branch on this monster of a tree, and then wrapping it in garlands of lights, adorning it with ribbons and all sorts of ornaments and knick-knacks.

There’s this one place in the entire province of Québec that we loved to visit– it was a Christmas shop located in Saint-Sauveur, in a region called the Laurentides. Every year, we’d go there and look around excitedly. I remember my parents bought my brother and I an ornament each, almost every time we’d go– once, I chose a little dressage rider on her chestnut horse, because I was convinced that I would one day have a horse of my own and I would become a top tier rider. Another year, they got me a huge trebble clef covered in gold holo glitter, because of my love for music. And another year, they bought me a fragile little ornament representing a ballerina frozen mid-arabesque, for my love of ballet.

And then, during the car ride home, I'd look out my window at the perfect winter scenery as we drove past.

At home, we’d decorate the tree, and then hang these little doorknob snowmen that my mother had handcrafted years ago. Then, we’d wrap a pine garland around the ramps on the stairs. And when that was done, we’d head outside and cover the house in Christmas lights.

And then it would be Christmas until late January the next year.

Everywhere we’d go, stores and houses alike were all adorned in their finest Christmas gear, and were a sight to behold. Some had inflatable santas and reindeer, others had Nativity scenes, others had a Northern Star light perched on their roof. And in the car, or in stores, the radio would blast Christmas music into your ears.

I remember listening to all these Christmas songs and thinking they were all so magical. That I could never get tired of them, because the singers all sang about how wonderful the holidays are, how their hearts were full of cheer, how cozy it was to sit next to chestnuts roasting on an open fire. They would sing about how we should just let it snow, about how Santa knew when you were sleeping or awake, about how they had a dream of a beautiful, white Christmas. My mother had a collection of Christmas CDs that she’d keep with her in her car, and whenever we’d go somewhere, we’d listen to them.

“White Christmas” was my favourite, because it made me think about how excited I was throughout the rest of the year for winter to come around, and for Christmas to bring joy and cheer to us once again. My mom would often tell me how it was my late grandpa's favourite Christmas song, too. I never learned its true meaning until recently– to me, it simply was about how the singer dreamt of having a Christmas just like he used to know, like when he was a kid.

A bit like the feeling I got this year, during the holidays.

Ten years ago, when I was sixteen, I started to see changes in the seasons, especially during winter. I noticed that it wouldn’t come as early as it used to. By Halloween, the best we could hope for was a day or night without rain. There was no snow in sight. Mid-November at the earliest would be when snowfall would begin.

And then, with the beginning of winter regressing well into the tail-end of November, so did the beginning of Christmas, in mine and my family’s eyes.

We wouldn’t decorate as much, or as early as we used to. We’d just leave the Christmas lights on the house for the next year, but not light them before the next time the holidays came around. One year, we tried getting a real Christmas tree, and though it was amazing to have the house smell like fresh pine until we had to take the tree out after the holidays, it just didn’t feel as magical.

It almost felt like the excitement I got from Christmas was directly related to how much snow we had that year.

So you can imagine how exciting Christmas was for me, these past few years where December was nearly as green as a golf course green in the middle of summer.

As I write this, there are literally barely two inches of snow covering the ground in my backyard.

Two. Inches.

That’s literally nothing.

I saw a post that one of my mutuals reblogged that mentioned this, about how Christmas songs nowadays are mostly reprises of the classics. And these classics reference a time that people these days can only remember. Children and future generations will never know the kind of winter we had back in the day. The ones where we’d play King of the Mountain with the other kids in the school yard because the administration had the snow cleared out, but the workers packed it in one spot in the entire yard instead of shoving it somewhere else. They’ll never know what it’s like to watch the news in the morning and see that their school is closed because of recent snowstorms causing trouble on the roads. They’ll never know the excitement of waking up one day in early November, and seeing a thick sheet of snow covering the ground outside.

They'll never know what a true snow day is like.

Nowadays, if I wanted to experience a winter like this again, I’d have to travel far up north.

I’d. Have. To. Travel.

When in previous years, I wouldn’t have had to, because these winters happened here, where I live.

And I wish I didn’t have to travel in order to have such an experience again.

Nowadays, winter is just another word for rainfall. Because that’s all we get– rainstorm after rainstorm. We barely get to see the snowflakes falling from the cloudy skies anymore. There’s no feeling of joy at witnessing the first of many snowfalls of the year, because I know that it’s only temporary. That there won’t be more snow piling up on top of it. I will likely never again wake up and feel joy at the sight of a fresh, untouched blanket of snow waiting for me outside, because there are no thick blankets of freshly fallen snow where I live anymore. The season’s become too warm for those to last.

I hate what winter has become.

I hate that it’s cold, but not cold enough to keep the snow around like it did before.

I hate that it’s wet, but not wet because the snow melted into my supposedly waterproof snowsuit– it's wet because of the rain.

I hate that the sky is almost always gray with rainclouds and not snowclouds.

I. Hate. It.

But what can one person do to change it?

Not much, I’m afraid.

The shift in seasons and climate change has killed what used to be the most amazing time of year for me.

It killed my love for winter. It killed my love for Christmas.

And it has tainted what little memories I retain from past Christmasses with a nostalgia and a sadness that I can only describe as painful, because I know I may never experience it again in my lifetime. And I'll only be 26 years old this year.

So these days, I don’t decorate anymore. I don’t listen to Christmas songs unless they’re blasted at work, on repeat, until I’m so fed up with them that I get angry when I come back the next day and hear them playing still. I don’t feel joy at seeing the slightest amount of snow on the ground, because I know that soon enough, rain will wash it away.

All I do is dream of a white Christmas, just like the ones I used to know.

–––

Hey everyone!

I'm sorry this post is so long. I just saw something on my timeline and had a lot of Big Feelings(tm) about it that I thought of sharing. The holidays this year have been a big disappointment on my end, for many reasons which I won't mention here. But the main reason is explained throughout this post.

If you've read through this entire thing, I am very grateful that you took the time to do so!

#seraa rants #christmas #holidays #climate change #writing #rambles #ramblings #memories #nostalgia

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jewishcissiekj · 9 months

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Asajj Ventress merch/thing I need (I went down a merch and figures rabbit hole)

Also rating some of them and giving them funny names. I should sleep

Starting off strong: This specific Star Wars: Halcyon Legacy #3 variant cover. I don't the way she looks in the comic itself but this. This drives me insane. 9/10

Funny haha Legends book with realistic Asajj edit on the cover. Because. You see. Obsessed with the way she looks here. Star Wars: Jedi Trial btw. 7/10 I don't like Anakin (I've never read this book)

Star Wars: Hyperspace stories #5 but this variant. She's such a wet cat in the comic itself and that's why I need it but this cover is a whole separate other thing I need because it stops my breathing for a moment. 11/10 bc Dooku my bestie ever is here

Ventrego from Set 75087 apparently is pretty self-explanatory I think

Sideshow Collectibles Star Wars Asajj Ventress Lords of The Sith 1/6 Scale, aka the astatue She looks so polite

Star Wars Clone Wars Action Figure Comic 2-Pack Dark Horse: Republic #69 Asajj Ventress and Tol Skorr, the one involving gay sex, not sure how. 15/10 and 5/10 because of the number and because Skorr is there and I hate Skorr

2010 Asajj Ventress Skate Finger Board McDonalds Star Wars and this one has Cad Bane and Grievous too but specifically the Asajj one and I don't know how I don't have this already/Ventresskateboard 3452261/10

Star Wars Clone Wars 2010 Asajj Ventress CW15, Love just how many figures they made at the time TCW was coming out, and she's just cool, I love her skirt, and it comes with a Dooku 12331/10

Star Wars The Black Series Clone Wars Asajj Ventress 6-Inch AF By HASBRO, Best figure quality, and I need to know if she can pose with her legs bc that skirt looks tight

Star Wars Asajj Ventress 3.75” Figure 2005 Jedi Vs Sith Battle Pack Clone Wars HER SKIRTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT Ventresstrillion/10

Star Wars The Clone Wars Asajj Ventress Loose 2003 Hasbro, and it's the cloak she's so perfect

Give me Star Wars Galactic Heroes Clone Wars Sith Asajj Ventress or give me death at this point honestly she's just too perfect Ventressbazzilion/10

Best one and one I can least realistically get my hand on on this list, Asajj Ventress Mythos Statue - Star Wars sideshow. Forever jealous of anyone that will have this. It should've been ME.

Star Wars Clone Wars Asajj Ventress Cartoon Network Hasbro 2005, because, again, Skirtress excellence and I think about this specific figure a lot 18/10

STAR WARS Micro Galaxy Squadron Light Armor Class ASAJJ VENTRESS’S GINIVEX Starf is a 10/10 because the ship itself is gorgeous but you can also put Asajj IN the ship what more can you ask for (had a dream about this one. didn't end well but I need this one)

Not sure why this Star Wars The Clone Wars Asajj Ventress Bust is sleeveless but I kinda like it idk 9/10

Older Ventrego with the Lego Clone Wars face aka I'm obsessed with Lego Asajj aka she's from set 66395 I'm 99% sure No skirt but it's still a 8/10

Star Wars Legion Asajj Ventress Operative Expansion, I love buying figures for games I don't play. She would never see real action with me.

Shoutout to Star Wars Miniatures Asajj Ventress 27 Clone Strike with Card WOC Mini I can not believe how many figures this cat has. 7/10

Back to comics, Star Wars: Obsession #5 because this cover is about me and I'm also in love with this comic 11/10

Star Wars: Republic #60. The most beautiful girl in the world. Ky Narec. Obi-Wan and Alpha-17. Origin story issue. big fan 1424354/10 but you can't get it for a normal price as a single issue you gotta look for the collections

Lastly, Star Wars Unleashed 7" Inch Statue Figure ASAJJ VENTRESS Hasbro 2005. This woman never had a good day in her entire life. I need her. Skirt 10/10

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thebramblewood · 4 months

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🧦🧣⛸️ if you want!

Thank you for the questions!

🧦: Character you'd most (or least) like to swap places with?

Oh, starting right off with a tough one! I'm not sure I'd want to swap places with Helena because she's really going through it, lol, and as fun as it is to write Lilith and Caleb, I wouldn't want to be either one of them. Maybe Julia because she's just a carefree teenager living her best life, completely oblivious to what's actually going on, or someone from my legacy or Horse Ranch saves since they're all just vibing with their farm animals and cute families right now.

🧣: What character looks their best all bundled up in winter clothes?

The Vatores are serving fashion no matter the season. I'm actually a bit sad we might not get to see them in winter again because I need to get Caleb into a big fluffy scarf.

⛸️: What’s a moment when your OC managed to skate by on thin ice and barely avoid a bad situation?

Um, Helena attacking people all over Copperdale without getting caught even though she's supremely bad at covering her tracks? She's been lucky so far, but it can't last forever!

#asks #ask game #antiquatedplumbobs

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edriayanieb · 2 months

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“A Childhood Filled with Wonder”

As I look back at my early years here in Lapu-Lapu City, I’ll always remember every part of my childhood that brought joy and care and was filled with bundles of love. I am glad my family has accepted and supported me since the day I was born, allowing me to freely express myself without fear or hesitation. As a child, I discovered my love for dancing and doing recreational activities. The rhythm of the music would ignite a fire within me, and I would lose myself in the joy of movement. Whether it was dancing in my living room or participating in family gatherings, I found a place and happiness in the art of dance. My home provided the perfect backdrop for my childhood adventures. Cebu provided its beautiful beaches and vibrant parks where I would run, jump, and play until my heart was content.

I remember the day when my sister-in-law brought me to the market to buy some ingredients, but suddenly I saw a bunch of toys around the place and found a small doll. I really wanted it because it was so cute, and I wanted to play with it. Without a second thought, I turned to my sister and pleaded for her to buy it for me. In that moment, I didn't care about the opinions of others or how they might perceive me. All I wanted was to hold that precious doll and play with it. Little did I know that this innocent desire would reveal a part of me that would shape my journey.

Years later, I mustered the courage to ask my sisters about that incident, curious to know how they felt when I proudly carried that doll home. Their response was filled with surprise and amusement. They couldn't believe their eyes, seeing their little sibling embrace their own unique sense of self unapologetically. It was a moment that not only revealed my true nature but also deepened the bond between us, as they embraced and celebrated my authenticity.

As a kid, I really loved going outside and traveling around the city, going to beaches, and playing with the sand with the other children. I am an imaginative kid who loves to do something, a kid who wants to explore and experience. I really love riding horses and skating on the ice rink. The first day I tried skating, it was really hard for me and I stumbled every minute, but I had the courage to learn it so I wouldn't stumble again. The feeling of freedom as I rode on cute horses or glided across the ice was exhilarating. I would spend hours building sandcastles with other children, laughing and chasing each other along the shore. As I grew up and saw my nephews and nieces doing what I loved, I felt nostalgic. Those carefree moments taught me the importance of embracing the present and finding happiness in the simplest of pleasures.

In my teenage days, socializing and fitting in with other children were quite challenging for me. I remember feeling a bit lost and unsure of where I belonged. Making new friends seemed like an uphill battle, but as luck would have it, I stumbled upon some amazing individuals who turned out to be amazing friends. It all happened accidentally, as if the universe had a hand in bringing us together. We would explore the city, try new activities, and support each other through the ups and downs of teenage life. These friendships became the anchor that helped me navigate the challenges of adolescence.

When I was 15, I joined a church ministry, and it changed my life. Being a part of a church ministry offers a unique opportunity for personal growth, spiritual development, and connecting with a community of like-minded individuals. It's a place where we can learn, serve, and find support in our faith journey.

Besides, that teenage year was a grateful memory. I discovered new hobbies and a new favorite movie, whether it was painting, playing an instrument, or even joining a sports team. Each new hobby allowed me to express myself and tap into my creativity. Through these experiences, I learned the importance of seeking out what truly brings me happiness and fulfillment. It taught me to embrace my individuality and to never be afraid of exploring new interests. Self-discovery is a beautiful journey, and my teenage years were instrumental in shaping who I am today. My favorite music was my soundtrack in my teenage years, and it was my best friend. Discovering music is my favorite thing to do. I got to discover new genres and music. Watching movies is also my favorite hobby, and I’ve always loved to see new plots. It inspired me to film movies and create different stories, which brought joy to my life.

As I turn 18, I’ve matured and realized that life is not always perfect. We come to understand that achieving our goals and dreams requires hard work, dedication, and perseverance. It's no longer about waiting for things to magically fall into place, but rather taking initiative and actively pursuing what we want. This newfound maturity brings with it a sense of responsibility and independence. We start to make our own decisions and face the consequences of those choices. It can be both exciting and daunting, but it's all part of the journey of growing up. It made me become independent and strong when choosing a path that we wanted, growing up taught us to be mature and grow stronger. It will help us develop new learning and leadership skills. Speaking of leadership, I really wanted to the person who can help and serve other people and be a good influence. So that's why I joined the SSG organization so that I could learn more about leadership skills. It's not all about doing it for yourself, but doing it for our community. Joining this organization taught us to be independent, both physically and emotionally.

So every day, I hope God will give us more blessings and provide us with bundles of love. I am very grateful because God has given us more lives to live. I am praying for the safety of my family and friends.

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kyogre-blue · 6 months

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Second chapter of CF down. Bye, Claude <3

I powered through yet another month of boring monastery stuff with the single thought of seeing Claude again (and killing him <3). If nothing else, this route is much more amusing than SS because I can see characters I care about doing stuff... as the enemy... but they're there!

Which really just highlights again how much of a missed opportunity Academy phase really is. They have all your future enemy units in the same place with you and then do basically nothing to make you care about them. It's all left onto replay or presuming they have off-screen relationships.

Aside from that, Edelgard's narrative about the Relics, human superiority and anti-dragon people is... hm. Well, it sure is a thing! Given how blatantly misconstrued some of the stuff she's saying gets (eg, about the Relics), the writers had to have been intentionally writing her as being utterly misguided, and I get that you're buying into her coolaid in the CF route. But the fact that you can't ever confront her about it in other routes despite all the "if only we could have understood each other :(" is just so.... sigh. It's unsatisfying to put it mildly.

Live blogging:

Hubert and Ferdie B: Hubert goes against Edelgard's explicit orders for something.

Felix says he's killed tons of people for the empire in the last five years and has the same look in his eyes now as Dimitri. lol

Dimitri with both eyes <3

Hubert's pre-Bridge conversation is hilarious. We need to cooperate with the Agarthans (presented as Arundel's subordinates) because we need to topple the Church! This is a very painful decision for Edelgard because you see they used her father as a puppet and killed her siblings :( Why are we more opposed to the church than these assholes? Well, because, I guess.

Bridge mission - nothing interesting. We do fight Judith, who has a unique model but is never playable. She's holding the bridge because Acheron is useless. He shows up as a horse guy (I'm pretty sure he was a mage in another route?) and then ditches after only one turn.

Afterwards, everyone makes fun of Edelgard for doing a bad job running the war until now because she's been too into Byleth. I've heard this angle before, but I think the actual difference is kind of mixed. They made less progress in the Kingdom, but that was all on Cornelia anyway, so it comes down more to Rhea not getting captured, presumably because she didn't have Byleth weighing her down. And the Alliance situation was never a real invasion in the five year gap to begin with. SS did have Lorenz siding with the Empire, but the exact in and out is kinda... hard to track.

Anyway, now we're in the Claude killing month!

Talk about how Claude has been acting as intermediary between those that oppose the Empire and those who support it, keeping them from fighting each other. Since everyone is compromising to keep the Alliance united for now, no one has openly sided with the Empire either.

But now he's scheming something, as we know because people have been stopped from entering or leaving Derdriu.

Everyone else: Claude is a smart, tough opponent. Bernie: Who's Claude

Ladislava is tasked with managing the supply lines and keeping the Goneril territories under control.

Being betrayed by Byleth made Rhea crack. "She started laughing as if she was possessed and spouting complete gibberish..."

Edelgard: Why can't people admit defeat without fighting back first? If they're going to surrender after I crush them under my boot, why not surrender without fighting? (Logically collolary: If you choose to fight, die fighting and never surrender. Explains why she's Like That in Azure Moon: sunk cost fallacy)

Edie is "not disinterested" in romance lol

Caspar family drama: His older brother is lazy, greedy and skates by relying on his position as heir. Their grandfather was really obsessed with his second wife, Randolph's mom. And she really wanted Randolph to become the heir, but the grandfather had to step down "earlier than expected," so Caspar's dad took over the title. With all this, Caspar's brother is really worried about the possibility of I guess Randolph taking over as heir instead.

This has.... interesting implications, I guess.

First, this makes Randolph Caspar's uncle, lmao

Second, I really, really wonder if Randolph was the grandpa's biological child. His mom explicitly married in after he was already born, but she could just as easily have been the grandpa's mistress. Either way, we get a very funny inheritance situation because Randolph does not have a crest, we can see that in his battle stats. So either crest ownership just doesn't matter in this case (lol Edie), or even wilder, you can just pass on your title to a completely unrelated child. Even if they ARE related, that's likely unprovable without a crest. (lol Edie extra hard)

Third, I wonder what the exact timeline here is? Because if Caspar's dad took over recently enough, he might not have been the lord who took part in the Insurrection. That might explain why he's inexplicably so chill about helping Edie take the throne and gain a whole ton of military power.

Edie, of course, turns this around as "this is the price of taking your own desires into account when choosing an heir" and this is why "the concept of nobility is decaying" but isn't Edie opposed to nobility in the first place? And she doesn't plan to institute a democracy anyway, so isn't everyone just going to be choosing their heirs based on "their own desires"?

She goes on to say that she wants a world where the best rise to the top and succeed, "regardless of bloodline," but uuuuuh this entire situation is about how the grandpa did not follow bloodline properly...? And all this also means that Caspar's bro can absolutely be removed from his position as heir, regardless of his bloodline...?

Caspar is like "ok, so you're saying nothing would change for me in your world, right?" L M A O

The way Edie presents the history of the Relics is so... "Relics were created by the hands of mankind" imo I wouldn't really count the Agarthans as particularly human anymore, and also this wasn't exactly something triumphant. "Seiros manipulated the people of the world and defeated the all-powerful King Nemesis" Nemesis was indeed tough, but you don't need to lick his boots quite that much. "Should the one leading the people of the world by someone with humanity or a creature that can merely masquerade as a human at will?" Given that you turn into an inhuman monster when you feel like it, which side of this binary do you fall on, Edie? I personally feel that Flayn, Seteth and Rhea have plenty of humanity even if they aren't human...

"The Immaculate One and her family"... dang, this phrasing is really...

This knowledge is passed down from emperor to emperor, huh. I know this kind of thing! Naruto taught me all about it! I remember that Uchiha tablet full of bullshit!

Byleth has been compared to Nemesis now. Hm.

Claude scene <3 He's upset about Judith dying, and that many more people will die following his orders. But of course he also talks himself up "do you have any idea how much of the Alliance adores me and believes in in me?" How much? Hm... about half? I remember SS and Lorenz leading the other half.

Anyway, Nader is also here.

Linhardt stupid take: "It's as if Crests were designed to be used only in times of war." How can you use them in peace-time? My dude...

There are three gates that connect Derdriu proper to its naval port. It looks like the naval port is a reinforced, walled area where the ships must dock before any goods or people can move into the city itself.

Killed Lysithea with Caspar, but I still get the prompt to spare her. I don't like these, it's too easy!

lol Claude keeps being upset that people are too stubborn to retreat even though he tells them to. My man, this is what happens when the Alliance adores you, it's called ride or die for a reason

The Almyran King fighting on the front lines... as expected.

Nader has been a soldier for 30-odd years. Incidentally, he retreats rather than outright being killed like Judith and Hilda... and Claude. It seems he has no dialogue for if Claude is killed first. Too bad!

#playing fire emblem

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cbk1000 · 4 days

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Since health issues have kept me from updates, here's at least a preview of the next chapter of Book of Merthur. If you are not caught up and do not want to be spoiled, I recommend skipping this. There is a spoiler right out of the gate for something that happened in the last chapter.

It was not one of those banshee winds at least, which find every empty corner of the earth, and populate it with ghosts; but it did delay a journey already belated, so that he was too late not only to stop Gwen marrying Arthur, but to save her from having to oppose some incredibly ugly yellow hose. She was fighting alone, because January, aside from keeping Lancelot from her, had also sealed up the moat surrounding the citadel, and brought knights and citizens alike to its shores with their bone-skates. Anyone useful, anyone with bravery enough to look the hosen in the eye, and tell their lovely but misguided advocate they were unfit for him or any living human, was down on the moat, checking one another with their bodies in play, or throwing about handfuls of wet snow. She could hear Gwaine, and Percival, and Elyan’s voices amidst that joyful choir, which floated up to her through the open shutters, because Arthur felt it was too unmasculine to be one of those normal people who keep their windows barred in winter.

“I’m just not sure it’s right for you,” Gwen said.

Arthur frowned at the hose. “Why not? The colour complements my hair.”

What it did, against his hair, was to show that broad spectrum of yellows which ranges from sunlight to horse piss. Arthur’s genetics had gifted him hair that was made of the former; and by contrast showed the hose like one of those miserable little puddles which can be found under drunk men with their vomit. Gwaine would have ended the bad taste with a single blow, by telling Arthur exactly what it looked like; but Gwen felt that most people of Arthur’s post-Merlin temperament responded slightly better to something other than, ‘What the hell is wrong with your eyes?’ It was a valid question; but that did not mean she needed to say it with anything other than her own eyes.

“Well, but you don’t really want it to be the same colour. You want something that brings out, you know, certain aspects of your colouring. Like a nice blue for your eyes.”

“But blue’s the same colour as my eyes,” Arthur argued.

Yes, Gwen said tiredly where she could be honest, but blue isn’t the colour of something you leave in your chamberpot.

He lowered the hose, which he had been holding up in front of his face, and frowning upon, and now frowned upon her. “You think they’re hideous.”

Women are always being accused of those hypersensitive gripings which the tired male must respond to with that flawless confluence of timing and inflection which assures her she is not, has never been, and never will look fat in anything whatsoever; but here was one of the lofty creatures doing exactly the same thing. The sordid truth is that men are never accused often enough of being overly sensitive bitches, though they are exactly, if not even moreso, as hysterical as any woman whose arse has advanced one centimetre on her seamstress. He was trying to hide it, but he was in a strop because she had not even stated, but rather merely, gently, maybe insinuated that his trousers were possibly a little grotesque. He was as offended as if he had made them, rather than simply attempted to misguidedly wear them.

#preview #fic #writing

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birlwrites · 5 months

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I was going through your dark lord wip tag because I was in the mood for Lore etc and I noticed that you've talked about all of the other Black family members, but you've only very rarely mentioned Andromeda, in both answers to asks and in ttdl itself. So I was wondering if you could tell us about her? I'd like to know how you think of her. Is it spoilery to reveal if we'll get to meet her sometime in atfhv?

we probably will meet her at some point but she'll be a very minor character because i had to stop somewhere - but yes i have plenty to say about andromeda!!

as far as the cousins go, growing up, andromeda, being the oldest second oldest bella it doesn't *matter* we're *twins* second oldest, was generally the Voice Of Reason. she was very sensible, which is exactly why regulus and sirius always, Always fell for it when she told them bullshit stories about pegasi actually being normal horses who jumped off cliffs and flapped their legs really hard until they sprouted wings. all horses can do this, it's just that most of them don't want to. unicorns sacrificed their ability to sprout wings in exchange for other magical powers. regulus and sirius believed this for years. along with much other bullshit andromeda made up

she was close with her mom and the rosier side of the family, and while she and bellatrix were very close, they weren't inseparable the way regulus and sirius were. she was a slytherin prefect, and prefect meetings were how she met ted - eventually they were paired together for rounds, at which point andromeda's already-flagging devotion to her prefect duties completely bit the dust, and their rounds were not what i would call Productive. rather, that was weekly (or twice-weekly!) Secret Date Time

also, i'm not saying that andromeda running off with a muggleborn was part of what inspired bellatrix to dive even deeper into blood purity as a sort of revenge on her not-sister, but i'm not Not saying that

andromeda knew she was going to leave for a long time before she did it - first she was working up the nerve, and then she was just planning it. she pulled away from her family a bit, but slowly enough that people just thought she was growing into a more reserved adult than she'd been as a child (which is exactly what narcissa Actually did). it took years, which is a good moment for me to say that in this universe, andromeda didn't run away straight after graduating from hogwarts - she did it several months after turning 20, shortly after the conclusion of the summer social season, to be exact

she'd been out of hogwarts for years (and keeping up a secret relationship with ted the whole time, secret in the sense that she'd met his entire family and was acquainted with his friends and Nobody Was Allowed To Breathe A Word To Anyone Who Didn't Already Know), she'd laid the groundwork to leave and like. find employment, and at that point, after years of looking for a way to make it all work, she was ready to go

she didn't *want* to leave, i should say - but the political climate in britain was swinging back towards blood purity, and her family would never accept her relationship with ted, and she spent a long time coming to terms with the idea that she didn't want to live her life stuck in a family like that

and she chose her moment carefully - right after the summer season ended, so her family wouldn't have to deal with it during the season, and by the winter solstice banquet, it would hopefully have mostly blown over. that meant her only options were times when narcissa was at hogwarts for her final year, but if anyone could skate through That social situation and come out the other side unscathed, it would be narcissa, and also andromeda was just done waiting for a perfect moment that would never come. she figured if narcissa reached out to her, she'd apologize for the timing - then narcissa never did.

andromeda doesn't want to be controlled - that's not to say that she's this wild person who's all over the place and doesn't want to plan ahead of think about the future. just the opposite, actually. it's that she's very confident in and resolute about her own ability to create a good life, and she doesn't want to be told she's doing it wrong for stupid superficial reasons. she didn't leave with the intention of cutting herself off from her family (although she did fully expect that *they* would cut her off) - it was more about setting a boundary and making clear that she's in charge of her own life. and if house black couldn't handle that, too bad for them

she and bellatrix have the same voice, but also they don't. bellatrix talks faster and sounds more lively, and andromeda talks more slowly and has settled into her voice more - people who know them both are often surprised to realize that it's not that bellatrix has a higher voice and andromeda a lower one, it's just that they use their voices differently. first impressions of her are that she's pretty mellow, but she's actually just very good at planning out how to do what she wants, in such a way that it means that if andromeda gets sharp or aggressive, it's because something's gone wrong in her plan and she's pissed because now she has to use brute force to make it work

but also andromeda is just. ruthless about her priorities. she wasn't always, but she decided to be around when she decided to leave. if she got caught up thinking about side concerns (my sisters will be upset; i won't be around to try to sway my family away from blood purity; i'll miss my mom; etc), she'd never get what she actually wanted - which was her own life going the way she wanted it to

she hasn't been a target for recruitment into the order because dumbledore doesn't think she cares much for the greater good, and he's not wrong, although he's not totally right - andromeda cares very much about the war. she cares about making sure ted and nymphadora (who's almost 4 atm) will survive it. she won't go into the fights and put her life on the line, because she has people she's decided to be there for, and she's not going to change her mind on that, especially not if dumbledore tries to do it for her. (but, like, she'd be willing to support from a non-combat role, so dumbledore is partly wrong)

the main reason that i don't talk about andromeda much is simply that her absence has made much more of an impact on regulus than her presence has. she left when he was 9, and while they spent summers at black manor together, andromeda was the least likely of the sisters to spend time playing with her kid cousins, especially as she grew more set on leaving. she left around the same time as arcturus and melania's deaths, and orion ascending to the lordship, and then sirius diving into a heap of blood traitors at hogwarts - it was a time of so much turmoil that andromeda leaving isn't even really its own separate Event in regulus's brain. just a part of those couple of years.

there's 'the before times,' when they spent summers at black manor with their grandparents and their cousins including andromeda, and 'the after times,' when they spent summers in london, only visiting their other family, and also regulus barely saw sirius, which, ngl, he cared about much more than he did about andromeda leaving

she's living her best life, tbh - or rather, her best life possible under the circumstances. she doesn't even know sirius was disowned; she avoids the society pages, because when she used to read them, they just made her incredibly sad. she certainly doesn't know sirius didn't end up in slytherin

(also, while i'm rambling, it's not that none of her family reached out after she left - it's just that the letters she got were just trying to persuade her to come back, as opposed to attempting to keep in touch. once she married ted, the letters stopped immediately, except for the one informing her she'd been disowned. neither of her sisters wrote to her - they were both reeling, and pissed off, and intending to give her the silent treatment when she came back, and then she Didn't.)

#dark lord wip #should i make an inbox tag

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